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I Dream of Childhood

I dream of childhood: The warmth, the ignorance, and the right to dream big without responsibility or expectations of executing plans.

I miss the illusion of safety. I had no worries or expectations.

I could live a day and not even exist in that I was not a person yet, the aspirations had not yet bloomed, and the damaged had not been done.

I was a blank slate, and each budding idea—a regurgitation of someone else’s—was prized as maturity. I was right, and when I was wrong, it was only a growing pain. Now, when I am wrong, I am wrong. I hurt people without knowing and hurt without knowing why.

I am alienated by these expectations. I’m no longer allowed to dream, but I have to work, and make others feel better about our fractured relationships.

My spirit is in shackles.

Rest is misconstrued as laziness. 
 

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